FOG PEACE

It was by this time about nine in the morning, and the first fog of the season. A great chocolate-coloured pall lowered over heaven, but the wind was continually charging and routing these embattled vapours; so that as the cab crawled from street to street, Mr. Utterson beheld a marvellous number of degrees and hues of twilight; for here it would be dark like the back-end of evening; and there would be a glow of a rich, lurid brown, like the light of some strange conflagration; and here, for a moment, the fog would be quite broken up, and a haggard shaft of daylight would glance in between the swirling wreaths.

NOTE:    I've been growing (as I expect you may have also) angry lately hearing the expression "the fog of war" used over and over in the news (by journalists, diplomats, even soldiers) to describe and in a very real sense justify the "atrocity of the day" (most recently the terrible killing of 24 Pakistani soldiers last week in a NATO raid supposedly launched in error against "friendly" forces).  Sometimes it seems to be spoken as an answer before a question is even asked.  

I’ve always loved fog – clouds on the ground -- rolling through them on foot.  The passage here, in case you don’t recognize it, is from Robert Louis Stevenson’s Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, which contains many fog references.  In a fit of pique, I decided to Google “the fog of peace,” not realizing that it too has become a cliché – a tiresome “irony cliché” that has been adopted by political journalists, historians, etc.  Too bad, it’s an evocative phrase without the politics and attitude.  I’ll stick with “peaceful fog,” although that’s not very Dr Jekyll, a long short story where peace is in very small supply.

Art To Own 1 (Triumphal Arch)

Arch of Titus, Rome

I Have Always Wanted To Own A Small(ish) Personal Triumphal Arch.

This Would Be Strictly For Home Use; I Have No Desire To Put On A Public Display. 

Arch of Trajan, Benevento

The Answer To Everything (Credibly Ascribed To Kepler)

Wallenstein's Horoscope (credibly ascribed to Kepler)

I. From "Chinese Astrology: Early Chinese Occultism" by Paul Carus

             "There can be no doubt that the entire Western civilization may be traced to one common source.  The Egyptians, the Greeks and the Romans have inherited their mathematics, the division of the day into twice twelve hours, and their calendars from ancient Babylonia, the influence of which has been preserved down to modern times, and can most palpably be recognized in astrology.

Albrecht Von Wallenstein (24 September 1583 – 25 February 1634)  --- Austrian General Generally But Not Consistently Loyal to the Emperor

          Astrology is unquestionably of Babylonian origin.  It rests on the theory that the universe is a well-ordained whole governed by universal laws, and so the ancient sages assumed that life on earth is foreshadowed by the events in the celestial regions; and these notions adhered to the further development of astronomy with a persistence that is truly surprising.

Johannes Kepler (December 27, 1571 – November 15, 1630):  Portrait by Unknown Artist dated 1610

 

          Even as late as the fourteenth century astronomers were still obliged to eke out a scant living with the help of astrology, and Kepler himself had to increase his means of subsistence by casting horoscopes.  But he was great enough to take the situation humorously, and in one of his letters we read:  'This astrology is indeed a foolish little daughter, but  -- lieber Gott!! – where would her mother, the highly rational astronomy, be, if she did not have this foolish offspring?  People are even more foolish, so foolish in fact that this sensible old mother must for her own benefit cajole and deceive them through her daughter’s foolish idle talk.'"  [1]

[1]  See Carus Sterne’s article, Copernicus, Tycho Brahe, and Kepler, The Open Court, XIV, 405.

Another rendition of Wallenstein's Horoscope

II. Horoscope of Albrecht of Wallenstein on display in Prague (2007)

"The recently discovered horoscope of Duke Albrecht of Wallenstein is one of the most important of its kind. It surpasses other horoscopes from the period with its detailed explanations of the Duke's life, and its use of the then most contemporary astrological techniques. Created in 1627 by an unknown astrologer, it charts eleven years of the duke's life, and is a document which, if it had fallen into the wrong hands, could have provided what would be regarded as sensitive information to his enemies. The horoscope featuring in a major exhibition devoted to Wallenstein.

Czech duke and nobleman Albrecht of Wallenstein (known in Czech as Albrecht z Valdstejna) was the supreme commander of the armies of Hapsburg Emperor Ferdinand the Second and one of the most influential figures in Seventeenth Century Europe, particularly during the period of the Thirty Years War. Though the precise time and purpose of the horoscope's creation is uncertain, there is a strong possibility that its formulation was ordered in 1627, when the Duke assembled a large army in Nise in Silesia. Likewise, the identity of the horoscope's creator is also unknown, but it was clearly someone practised in the craft, as Dr Petr Masek from the National Museum explains:

The horoscope was probably created at the end of the year 1627 to the beginning of the 1628 and in the greatest probability it was from Nise in Silesia. Whoever created it was actually a practicing astrologer, who used a whole spectrum of techniques. They range from the traditional, including even at those times almost forgotten techniques, to the most modern techniques. The latter included the so called 'Danish tables' of Tychon de Brahe, which were developed precisely in that year 1627. So the author had at his disposal the most modern range of tools.'
 
Uncertainty and mystery shrouds the question of who ordered the horoscope's creation. It was found in a castle in Kopidlno which at one point belonged from 1638 to Jindrich Schlik, one of the duke's generals, and there is a possibility that he ordered the horoscopes creation in order to ascertain the fate of his lord, on whom much of the fate of Europe depended. Petr Masek: 

'It was regarded as serious information outlining one's fate, to such an extent that the horoscopes of those prominent figures like Wallenstein were by various secret means copied, or basically stolen, and offered to other people for a fee, because they were regarded as strategic material. It is understandable that for many, it was important to know how the lives of personalities who shaped the annals Central European history would turn out.'
 
However, anyone in possession of the horoscope thinking themselves to be in on fate's secrets might have been disappointed, as Wallenstein died ten years earlier than the horoscope predicted. Next year celebrates the 425th anniversary of his birth and the horoscope forms part of an exhibition at the Wallenstein riding school, which runs until February of next year."

The assasination of Albrecht von Wallenstein, 1634

Braised Endives -- 2 Recipes; Gogl-Mogl; The Gold and Fizdale Cookbook

 
Fizdale (l) and Gold (r)

None of the magazines and newspapers I read these days ever seem to mention the pianists, cooks and authors Arthur Gold (1917-1990) and Robert Fizdale (1920-1995). 

This wasn't always the case. 

As musicians, Gold and Fizdale performed from the 1940s through the 1970s as a two-piano team on the international classical concert circuit.  "The Boys," as they were known to their many celebrated musical, literary and culinary friends, championed the work of modern composers and commissioned and premiered important 20^th century piano works, including compositions by John Cage, Virgil Thompson, Paul Bowles, Ned Rorem, and the group of French composers pictured below, known as Les Six.

Les Six plus one (Jean Cocteau at piano) in the 1920s: Darius Milhaud, outline of Georges Auric, Arthur Honegger, Germaine Tailleferre, Francis Poulenc, and Louis Durey (file photo)

As writers (a profession they adopted after Gold began suffering problems with his hands, which affected his playing), they wrote biographies, including "Misia: the Life of Misia Sert" (William Morrow 1981), "The Divine Sarah: a Biography of Sarah Bernhardt" (Knopf 1991), as well as journalism for Vogue and the excellent "Gold and Fizdale Cookbook" (Random House, 1984), a superb collection of recipes and travel/music/musician/dance and dancer lore.

The following two recipes only hint at the book’s qualities (the recipes are really good and well-written; it is also a handsome, well laid-out volume), but give no real idea of G&F's range.

No matter – braised endives are, I think, my favorite dish [1] and George Balanchine’s mother’s Gogl-Mogl recalls events from my own childhood.  My mother’s father was Russian and she occasionally served something similar to my brother and me.  I hadn’t thought about that until just a moment ago.  Because my grandfather was basically non-communicative for most of the time I knew him (apparently, this wasn't always the case), the egg and sugar froth sparkles this memory. 

So: Vive Gold and Fizdale!  Vive Gogl-Mogl!  And Vive La Belgique -- home of the (Belgian) endive (aka witloof) and my friend Marvin Siau of Starvin Marvin and the Paranoid Androids!

Braised Endives

(Endive Braisées)

12 medium-size endives

1 stick (1/4 pound) butter

Salt and freshly ground pepper to taste

Juice of half a lemon

¼ cup chicken broth or water

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

     Trim off the root ends with a small knife, and discard any wilted outer leaves.  Never let endive sit in water, as that will exaggerate the bitterness.  If they are fairly clean to start with, just wipe them with a damp cloth.

     Generously butter the bottom of a 3-quart flameproof enameled casserole and arrange the endives close together in two layers.   Season each layer with salt, pepper and lemon juice.  Dot with the remaining butter.  Add the broth or water.  Simmer, covered, for 10 minutes, then boil, uncovered, for another 10 minutes, or until the liquid has reduced to a few tablespoons.  Cut a round of paper to fit the top of the casserole and butter it well.  Lay the paper, buttered side down, on the endive, cover the casserole and bake for about 1 hour.

OPTIONAL:  When cooked, arrange the braised endives in a shallow baking dish, dot with more butter, and brown under the broiler for a minute or two.

6 servings.

GOGL-MOGL

“Like Proust’s Madeleine, gogl-mogl, a frothy mixture of egg yolks whipped with sugar, evoked Balanchine’s childhood for him.  ‘At bedtime, my brother, sister and I sat around Mama in a semi-circle.  She had a glass of gogl-mogl and a spoon.  While she fed one, the other two watched to see who got the biggest spoonful.  We were like little birds in a nest fed by the mama bird.”

6 egg yolks

6 tablespoons sugar

½ tablespoon vanilla

Put all the ingredients in the top of a double-boiler over simmering water.  Beating continuously, heat until light, fluffy, and somewhat thick.  Pour into a bowl or into wineglasses and chill.

NOTE: 

[1]   Because, as I mentioned, braised endives are about my favorite thing to eat, I thought I would include the preparation below, which is the one I use most often. I think it's one of Pierre Franey's 60 Minute Gourmet recipes and is simpler and much quicker to make than the Gold and Fizdale version.  Endive season is upon us. We recently found a good and inexpensive local source for this prized, once much rarer item.

Braised Shredded Endives

1 1/4 lbs. fresh Belgian endive

2 tbsp. butter
Juice of half a lemon or lime

Salt and freshly ground pepper to taste

1/4 tsp. sugar

1.  Trim off the ends of each endive.  Place the endives on a flat surface and cut on the diagonal into very thin strips.  There should be about 6 cups of shredded endives.

2.  Heat the butter in a heavy skillet and add the endives.  Add the lemon juice, salt, pepper and sugar.

3.  Cook, stirring often, about 3 minutes or until wilted.  Cover and cook about 8 minutes.  Uncover and continue cooking, stirring often, about 3 or 4 minutes until lightly browned.

 

Musical accompaniment:

A.  George Auric: Une Valse Pour Deux Pianos Pour Arthur Gold et Robert Fizdale

B:  Starvin Marvin and the Paranoid Androids: Working For Success

GIN AND ALMOND COOKIES (TRADITIONAL MINORCAN RECIPES)

 
GIN*:   Minorca’s most typical drink is, perhaps, the distilled spirit of juniper, and is called <<gin>> or <<ginebra>>.  It is made as follows:
     Put 12 ounces  (350 grs) of juniper seeds to infuse for forty-eight hours in 9 litres 85 cls. (2 gallons 1 pint approx.) of over-proof <<aguardiente **>>  adding 2 litres 50 cls. of pure distilled water (in old days rain water was used). 
      Put the container with this liquid into a bain-marie, and leave it until the aguardiente used has been given off, and then bottle.
      If it is desired to give the colour of Holland’s Gin to the liquor, it will suffice to burn a little sugar in a spoon, taking care to move it about whilst it is being heated, and withdrawing it from the fire before it gets burnt.  Then mix it with the liquor.

* The British occupied Minorca for most of the 18th century, leaving behind gin as one of their legacies. Soldiers and sailors asked for gin in the island’s taverns and soon local artisans began to import juniper berries to keep them happy. Gin’s special flavour is attributable to the fruit of the juniper bush (Junniperus communis), a fundamental original ingredient. When it is industrially distilled, tradition is observed: copper stills and wood fuel are used. Afterwards, the gin is stored in oak barrels before it is bottled. During the manufacturing process, no additives are used.

For centuries, juniper berries have been used thanks to their healing properties. In pharmacopoeias, they were used to make oil, honey or gums. They were boiled with wine or taken as pills. Their beneficial properties were used in numerous different situations: to cleanse the kidneys and blood, to avoid flatulence, and bring on menstruation. It was also said that if the berries were burnt, the smoke protected against the plague.

In the reign of William 3rd of Britain, aqua juniperi, the result of distilling alcohols with juniper berries, became spectacularly popular. So many abuses occurred when gin was made that the British Parliament passed a Gin Act in 1736 prohibiting its production and consumption. Far away from their country, the British on the island of Minorca continued to drink gin, a variety made with alcohol produced from grapes.

The Minorcans reduce its strength by drinking it as a pomada (with lemonade) or pellofa (with soda water and lemon peel).

 

 

**  Aguardinete (Spanish), aiguardent (Catalan), aguardente (Portuguese), and augadente (Galician) are generic terms for alcoholic beverages that contain between 29% and 60% alcohol by volume.  The terms mean “fiery water.”   The word is a compound word that combines the words for “water” (agua in Spanish; água in Portuguese; auga in Galician) and “fiery” (ardiente in Spanish; ardente in Portuguese and Galician).

<< CARQUINYOLIS>>  -- Almond biscuits – Ingredients:    12 ounces (350 grs approx.) of sugar.
¼ pint of water.

6 ounces (175 grs approx.) of chopped up almonds.


12 ounces (350 grs approx.) of flour.
 

Knead all together and flatten the dough out with a rolling pin to the thickness of a centimeter.  Cut out strips measuring one and a half centimeter wide and about 10 centimetres long .  Put them on flat molds so that they don’t touch each other and cook in the oven.

Why Gin?  Why Minorca? Why Almond biscuits?  

Some years ago a friend mentioned in a letter that he was abandoning his established Mallorcan abode for Minorca.  I was (briefly, idly) curious whether this was a positive or negative move on his part, but soon realized that the decampment really was predictable and characteristic.  I myself tend to the “lonely sociable.”  My friend is “lonely unsociable.”  Even his small town in Mallorca had grown too big for him.

Over the years I began researching Minorca in books, occasionally at the cheese counter (Formatge de Maó), and in my little Luis Ripoll [1] pamphlet, the source of these recipes.  Everything looked appealing and I think I myself might be happy there if a few variables seemed less so.  Everything seems far too variable lately except bad news headlines and snarky broadcast opinions polluting the universe. We’re a long way from the peaceful, wide-eyed optimism of C.T.A. 102. [2]

Personally, I love gin (not all gins – that’s the point, they vary too – but something tells me I would like the Minorcan style of gin, which I suspect would remind me of the Hollands varieties I’ve tried)  and these almond biscuits seem perfect. It's a beautiful Mediterranean flag also with the medieval castle, the high walls, etc. 


[1]  From Luis Ripoll, 125 Cookery Recipes of Majorca, Minorca, Ibiza (translated by William Kirkbride).  Palma de Mallorca, 1975.

 [2]  C.T.A. 102 -- The Byrds

From "The Metamophosis of Peter Brooke" (Julian MacLaren-Ross)

Even the steady thunder of bomber planes on the way to Germany overhead failed to wake him, but before dawn he had a fight with himself in his sleep.  I watched from my ringside seat:  himself seemed about to win but just in time he knocked himself out.  I counted ten but he lay stiff and silent, not even snoring now; and in the morning we were roused by the ringing telephone.  It was my girlfriend to say that Germany had surrendered, which places this meeting in early May 1945.

The Monastery of Information

  “Another, more serious proposition he received was from Charles Wrey Gardiner of the Grey Walls Press, who was present when Brooke outlined a projected fantasy novel called ‘The Monastery of Information’.  The basic elements included an astrally projected Tibetan lamasery, controlled from the forbidden city itself and invisible to all except those in a state of ecstasy: drunks, lovers etc;  there was also a London bank which financed the nefarious operations of the Tibetan fifth-column with phantom money and was manned by cashiers stuffed with straw.  Murders of people who knew too much were committed by a band of trained commando midgets, and the conspiracy’s total aim was world domination, narrowly averted.

     Wrey Gardiner, impressed by what he called a poetic variation on thriller themes, actually offered to advance something on a synopsis if I collaborated on the writing of the book; and, as the music publishers’ tenner was running out faster than the spirits in the pubs, we got down to work that night, but Brooke fell asleep over the table just as we reached the first murder by midget.”